anewlanguage | (no subject)

(no subject)

[VIDEO;]

Every now and again I see people curious to learn some hand to hand--or hell, some weapons--fighting. I'm offering to teach, assuming you're up to the task. I'll tell you now, not everyone will be.

[PRIVATE VIDEO to BARBARA and IRIS]

[Admittedly he hesitated to put Barbara on the filter but logic wins out in the end.]

So what've you two put together about the Barge's engines? Need to bounce a few ideas at you.

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Aw, you don't give me credit at all! I could have you fighting at three-quarters dead.

Tell me more about Blue.

Megamind. You've seen 'im around. With me and Babs both deathtolling 'e's done most of the work. Plus 'e needed the distraction. It kind of hit 'im where 'e lives, a year after the Tosh business. Were you 'ere for that?

Oh, I know you could. I'm just a lazy arse, is what.

Yeah, I remember Tosh. Remember all the people who died, too. [Cain hadn't cared much for the deaths, and still doesn't. Death isn't permanent here; and even if it was, it's not the very worst thing in the world. He would know.]

You on solid food?

The demotions and torture's what I remember. This 'as been better; no thanks to the Emperor, though. We just got lucky.

[Cain has probably never seen Iris really angry. Irritated, shouty, yes; she has a low threshold for that and vents them loudly and freely.

This is a different animal entirely. It shows only in the cold stillness that has nothing to do with present physical weakness, in her flint-hard, unsmiling eyes.

And then it flicks off like a lightswitch and she's smiling joyfully at him again.]

'Ow solid are we talking?

Solid as a cake.

[The answer comes easy but his attention is now focused sharply on the Emperor, and on that rare glimpse of Iris without her smile.]

I got questions to ask and I find they go down easier with something sweet.

[She really does hurt a great deal: the nanites, designed primarily to incapacitate, killed her by slowly eroding all her systems from the bone out, so that there's no part of her not affected. But she smiles, and snuggles deeper into her tiger-print bedspread.]

I'm very weak. You might need to 'and-feed me.

[He chuckles]

Lucky for you and that bedspread, I've got real steady hands. We could risk red wine or chocolate pudding.

[He's on the verge of asking Barbara if she, too, needs hand feeding...but he stops himself when he realizes what he was about to say.]

That all sounds a bit indigestible to me. Got any of that coconut cake left?

...Maybe dipped in spiced rum.

[Unrepentant. Iris could use some spoiling.]

I'll make you up some magic soup, my own recipe. It'll have you on your feet in no time.

Why do I get the feeling I'd better not ask what's in that?

[INNOCENTFACE.]

Damn right you shouldn't! Family secret, and it'd spoil the surprise anyway.

I love surprises. Why are you still down there yakking, then? Sick lady 'ere, mister!

I'll leave you to Barbara's tales while I cook, then. Give me a half hour.

Counting the minutes. Actually, you might drop some off for Babs and all. She got just as killed as I did and I'm not up to looking after 'er.

Sure thing. Make sure to look weak as a kitten when I get there, you hear?

Good thing I'm a brilliant actress.

[Deadpan. She is weak as a kitten; much more than she's been letting show on the network.]

I'd love to throw your acting at someone who can't read you.

You've seen me clear security guards out of the way before now, 'aven't you?

[Iris, hypnotising them so they think it's their night off doesn't actually count as acting. Even though it's effective and bloodless.]

I have and it's a real fun trick to watch. But it's not really the same.

I'll make a point of it for you next time. You can set me challenges if you like. Remember me nephew in Lakeside?

[Her eyes are bright now.

And then suddenly she's small, and frail and old and hurting. Although a little theatrically.]

...Please sir, just a little soup first?

[He grins crookedly at her]

I can't have you starve. On my way, right this second.

[And when the soup is ladled out (two bowls: one for Iris, one for Barbara) he drops the one off for Babs and heads in to see Iris.]

[Up close, it's apparent she really is in bad shape; it's equally apparent that she's reached the point where being held down by pain and weakness is violently boring, and she's delighted to see him.]

Oh thank goodness. Come 'ere. I feel like summat the cat sicked up, but that soup smells good. So do you.

You do love the smell of gunpowder on me.

[Teasing, as he settles on the edge of her bed and ladles out a spoonful to her.]

I do. Gives me the 'orn. If I 'ad any 'orn left in me right now.

[Which is the absolute truth, although it's as much his own scent, close up. Gunpowder just smells really good okay.

She lets herself be fed, pliant and contented. I could get used to this, she wants to say, and then doesn't; it's a wonderful feeling to be looked after, but she knows herself better than to think she could take it except in very small doses on special occasions. So she picks on a lesser, truer thing to say instead.]

...This soup's bloody amazing. What's in it?

Magic, for a start. [Grinning at her, winking, brushing her hair back.]

Garlic, chicken broth, more garlic, some whiskey and honey, a touch of lemon, some hot peppers to clear your sinuses.

[He's actually enjoying this. But, like her, its a small-dose thing: he doesn't have the temperament to be nurturing for very long.]

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